Æthelwold was a pillar of the Church. He repaired the nunnery founded here by Alfred’s queen, and purchased the sites of Ely, Peterborough, and the “Thorney” isle, on which the “Minster of the West” stands. He rebuilt the Cathedral of St. Swithun--upon plans apparently of that saint--assisting in the good work not only as an architect, but also as a manual labourer. Great opposition was made to him by the “adversary,” but he was supported by power from above. One day a great post fell upon him breaking nearly all the ribs on one side of his body, and but for his falling into a pit he would have been crushed altogether. Another day one of the monks who were working on the highest part of the church fell from the top to the bottom, but as soon as he touched the earth and made the sign of the cross, he ascended in the sight of all up to the place where he had stood, took up his trowel, and continued his work as if nothing had happened! [Sidenote: The Saxon Cathedral.] The church thus miraculously raised is represented by Wolstan, who saw it, as a wondrous edifice. It was built with “Dædalion” ingenuity. There were so many buildings with altars round the nave that the visitor would become confused, and not be able to find his way about. A tower was added, detached, and so lofty that its golden beaks (gargoyles) caught the rays of the rising sun and, with a little stretch of imagination, “made perpetual day.” The crypts were like the church, so large and intricate, that “a man in them could not find his way out and did not know where he was.” The latter statement was true in one sense, as the occupants were mostly kings and bishops, who were brought in to be buried. Wolstan is grand upon the organ; indeed, he works it a little too hard. He says that it sometimes sounded like thunder, and was heard all over the city. Whatever its modulations may have been, it must have been powerful, for there were twelve pairs of bellows, worked by “the arms of seventy men with great labour and perspiration.” This instrument had forty “musæ,” notes, I suppose, and was played by two of the brethren. The tower was surmounted by a rod with golden balls, which shone in the moonbeams as if they were “stars upon earth.” On the top of all was a splendid weather-cock. It was fitting that such a building should be presided over by a brave bird. “The Winchester monk himself seems to have crowed pretty loudly over it,” observed Mr. Hertford. Æthelwold had the body of Birinus, which Hedda had buried simply and respectably, taken up and wrapped in sheets of silver and gold. He was also conveniently admonished by a dream to move the body of St. Swithun, and a curious Saxon account of this direction is extant.[64] The saint, in shining light and full canonicals, appeared to an old smith, and told him to send to Æthelwold to remove his bones. “Oh! sire,” replied the smith, “he will not believe my word.”